Fallen Branches
by Dante Lewis
Summary: Severus Snape was happy once, fleetingly. Perhaps it was an error in judgement on her part, but Severus Snape could never forget the one night fate had given him with Lily. How could he, considering the consequences? When the war ends, the truth will out
1. Prologue: 19 Minutes Later

**Disclaimer: **If it were mine, I could pay off my mortgage in less than a minute. Then I could quit work and write FF in cafes all day... in Scotland, no less. *sigh* Alas, I've more chance of picking ear wax out of my ears than my bank accepting your reviews as payment on said mortgage.

**Updated: Sunday 20 June 2009**

**A/N: **This is part of an experiment to test my muse: whichever story gets the most (and the best) feedback I will continue with at a faster pace. At least that's the theory I am out to test...

**Prologue: 19 Minutes after the final battle **

She waited, with resigned necessity, as the figures of Harry Potter and his friends emerged from behind the stone gargoyle, and disappeared around the corner. In all the pandemonium following Voldemort's fall – Ministry officials arriving to verify the news, the castle flooded with an influx of anxious parents as word of the battle had gotten out, students all the while wandering around dazed – it had been ridiculously easy to slip in through the crowds unnoticed. A surge of protectiveness bubbled within her as she considered how vulnerable the exhausted hero might have been had she sought to bring him harm, but it faded away with the stark reminder that Harry was as much a man now; capable of taking care of himself, as recent events had more than proven.

Retracing the young Gryffindor's steps, she carved an unfamiliar path in to the office she knew so well – her arrival in times past consistently framed by the iron grate of the Headmaster's Floo.  
'Hello, Albus,' she said, removing the cloak that, in battle, had served the purpose of rendering her faceless and without gender. Unclipping the pin in her hair, so that the coppery red tresses could fan about her face and settle upon her shoulders freely, she eyed the portrait carefully.

'You're injured,' observed the oil canvas of Albus Dumbledore, recognising the pain in the woman's eyes only too well – for it was something he'd seen only too often in another who shared eyes of that distinctive hue. 'You were at the battle.'

'Don't feign your surprise, Albus. It is most unbecoming,' said the woman blandly, leaning against the late wizard's desk so that she might better observe his image whilst allowing her body some rest. 'Of course I was there. I was there just as I was that night in the Ministry... and here, last year as you fell! With my obligations in France now long dispensed with did you really think a foolish Vow was going to keep me away?'

Albus shook his head sadly, painted eyes seeming to portray his regret.  
'No,' he admitted with a sad smile. 'Though I had hoped that Severus might have been able to appeal to your better judgement-'

The expression on the woman's face darkened, and she pushed away from the desk angrily; wincing as the action of straightening up aggravated the knocks she had sustained in battle, and had yet to treat. She shook her head vehemently.  
'Yes, well, Severus and I haven't exactly been on level terms since he tried to set a Dementor on Sirius,' she pointed out glibly. 'Not that I ever stood to listen to reason from him when it came to Harry, in any event. Where is he, anyway? Don't tell me my fool brother remains unaware of all my father did to help-'

Albus' eyes lost their twinkle and drifted towards his Pensieve in response.  
'No, I am afraid that Harry is more than aware of Severus' efforts,' he paused, locking eyes with the woman with an expression that conveyed more than words alone. 'Though I fear the price your father paid was far too great... I'm sorry, Eileen.'

A/N: Yes, sorry, I couldn't resist... naming the epilogue what I did :P


	2. Secrets Unearthed

**Updated: Monday 22 June 2009**

**A/N: **I felt guilty about how short the epilogue to this story was... so I decided to celebrate the installation of my home internet connection by posting the follow up chapter. Thanks to all who have reviewed - it does wonders for my Muse (and wreaks havoc on my concentration in the office... LOL)

**Chapter One: Secrets Unearthed.**

The letter in Harry's pocket felt as heavy as lead; a physical manifestation of the guilt he'd felt after sleeping before first ensuring that the bodies of Lupin and Tonks had been properly claimed. He ought to have known that the elder Mrs Tonks would not be able to travel with the infant Teddy, and he was not quite sure how he felt about Narcissa Malfoy reprising the role of her estranged niece's aunt in light of his own oversight, the former Black stepping up to act as next of kin to the niece she'd barely known, handling the initial arrangements in place of the young Auror's distraught mother. The letter, written in Mrs Tonks' unfamiliar, but precise hand, was an invitation to a wake and burial; though in which order they occurred Harry was too muddled to tell. Alone, he stood now in the shadows of an old, over-grown, easily-overlooked cemetery; the place that was to be the final resting place of Severus Snape.

News of the man's courageous sacrifice in the war had yet to sink in, and in light of the reprisals his other reputation would bring, the service was a simple, low-key affair. Though Harry had begun to realise that there was a lot more to Severus Snape than he had ever known, he knew, somehow, that this would have been the way the man would have preferred it.

From his place in the shadows, Harry could recognise few of the scatter of people gathered closer to the graveside. Many of the Hogwarts alumni, Harry knew, had been ashamed of their judgement and stayed away, for fear of being seen as hypocrites. His Head of House was there, however, looking undeniably abashed and heartbroken; being uncharacteristically propped up by the portly Slytherin Head... Slughorn looking strangely out of place with the pensive, almost prideful, expression that he wore. Narcissa Malfoy was there with Draco, the younger looking pale-faced and stunned as he stared into the grave – no doubt contemplating the alternatives – Narcissa's hold on her boy bespeaking the same realisation. The resident Hogwarts nurse stood mournfully with a man Harry vaguely recognised as the proprietor of the Apothecary in Diagon Alley; the aloof figure of who looked to be Aberforth Dumbledore bringing up the rear.

There were no speeches, no wailing loved ones, no endearing annecdotes from the pastor as he administered the last rites in a most prefunctory – and, surprising, _Muggle_ – fashion. As the sleek black casket was lowered into the ground and the people filtered away, without interacting and all too eager to put the loss behind them, Harry lingered, and waited, all the while wondering what his own parents' funeral had been like. His mind was still fixated on that one and only time he had visited his parents' resting place, that he missed the emergence of a cloaked form appear from a distance and approach the open grave; falling to their knees aside the headstone, in an obviously aggrieved state. Curious, Harry crept forward quietly, his heart racing as the figure threw back their hood to reveal a shock of long, silky red hair. Without explanation, Harry felt the anticipation bubble in his chest and he staggered forward, inexplicably drawn to the woman and fighting to hear the words she was murmuring. Tripping on a stick, the sudden bustle of noise startled the girl, Harry catching a glimpse of wide green eyes on the womanl's face as she spun, wand at the ready. Her expression softened from defensive fear, to recognition, and then, just as readily, she was gone; Disapparating when Harry had been close enough to almost touch her.

Blinking in shock, Harry fell into the warm imprints the mysterious girl had left in her wake and stared at the sleek onyx of the headstone, trying to gather some clue as to the mourner's identity. Spotting the brilliant white lily the woman had left atop the stone, its stem intertwined with that of a blood red rose, Harry felt a chill run down his spine. Not only did the mystery young woman have eyes like his own, and hair like his mother's, but whoever it was knew his former professor well enough to know of the man's unrequited love. Though it was possible that the man had been visually selective when seeking a consolation love, Harry did not think Snape would ever have opened up quite enough to speak openly about Lily with another.

But then it wouldn't be the first time he had gotten things so horribly wrong when it came to Severus Snape.

Brow furrowing in confused contemplation, Harry let his eyes skim over the freshly chiselled epitaph and read...

Severus Snape  
9th January 1960 - 2nd May 1998  
Love Conquers All

Thinking of how the only emotions the late wizard seemed capable of producing were anything but lovable, Harry's mind reeled as he reread the words, hopelessly trying to gauge who might have made such arrangements for the emotionally-guarded wizard. Whomever it was, they seemed to just _know_ how the Slytherin's actions had been motivated by some consuming love he'd held for a woman who married another. Known that despite whatever resentment, whatever hatred, whatever condemnation the man had felt towards Harry for being James Potter's son – instead, perhaps, his own – love _had_ conquered all. Coming rather sharply to that realisation, understanding his once-loathed teacher with far more clarity than he ever could have hoped, Harry was surprised by his tears.  
'You could have told me... Severus.'

The man's name was foreign on his lips, but felt inexplicably right. He bowed his head in reverence. Reflecting, then, on how bereft the man had been after having caught Harry in his Pensieve – how completely and utterly convinced he had been that the son of his childhood tormentor would have mocked him – Harry shook his head in sadness.  
'I would have understood. Things could have been different... I'm sorry. I'm sorry that my father was the only thing you could see when you looked at me-'

But as soon as Harry had spoken the words he realised they weren't true. Snape had been almost desperate to look into his eyes as he died, so he'd had to of seen what there was of his mother in him... but perhaps to acknowledge that would have simply brought the complex man too much pain. Thanking the man for his sacrifice, inwardly vowing to ensure the memory of Severus Snape was properly remembered, Harry conjured a bunch of blue forget-me-nots tied with an emerald green ribbon and made his leave. Once again, he felt – just like he had done when visiting his parents' graves the summer previously – the eerie presence of someone watching him but, as this was conceivably only his third time in a graveyard, he dismissed it as the everyday, creepy ambience of such locations.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Having stealthily returned soon after her hasty departure, Eileen Rose returned to her place at the foot of the gapingly open grave and paused to admire the offering the dark-haired young wizard had left behind, emerging from the shadows the moment Harry had left.  
'Nice choice, Harry,' she murmured, a small smile gracing her lips as she Disapparated for a second time, only one thought lingering on her mind.

_'...Soon...'_

_

* * *

_

When Harry returned to the Burrow, home from the third burial that day – it was to find a package waiting for him on the kitchen table. The Weasleys too, had been at Tonks and Lupins' service – as indeed had much of the Order – but Harry had stayed behind in the quaint modest cottage, to spend some time with his orphaned godson. He was staying at the Burrow, at Mrs Weasley's insistence, 'until the media furore had died down'. Harry suspected it was code for 'until we have buried the dead', for there were several more funerals lined up for that week and he was glad not to have to come home to some empty, unfamiliar space.  
'Oh good, you're back!' Mrs Weasley said in relief as she stacked clean dishes. Her eyes seemed almost perpetually ringed with red in the wake of the loss of one of her sons and yet it existed as the only visible sign of the woman's grief. She buzzed around the kitchen as busy as she ever was, gesturing towards the unexpected package on the centre of the table.  
'No one's been able to get near it since the Unspeakable dropped it off – must be something really important for the Ministry to send an Unspeakable out in day light, when surely an owl could well have managed it. Bill was by earlier and he said he'd never seen Security Charms quite so complex-'

Whilst Mrs Weasley offered her explanation, Harry hung his jacket and stepped towards the package curiously. Despite its official means of delivery Harry knew he ought to have taken measures to screen the item for inlaid Curses or Spells, but as soon as he spotted the untidy scrawl upon the address label, all sense of logic left him.  
'That's Sirius' writing!' he exclaimed in astonishment, cutting off his surrogate mother in his haste to grab the mysterious gift and tear it open.

Reading over his shoulder, Mrs Weasley wiped her hands on her apron and shook her head in disbelief.  
'That's what the Unspeakable had said,' she admitted, squeezing Harry's shoulder in gentle encouragement. Her hand trembled, and Harry could only imagine how the woman must be thinking of Fred, and how no such missives would likely appear from him in the years to come. A mother first and foremost, the woman recovered her determined exterior before Harry could acknowledge the fracture in her resolve. 'But I didn't want to say anything in case it was false information – how in Merlin's name could Sirius have left anything in the care of an Unspeakable? Not even Dumbledore had that sort of reach in the Ministry... why, I doubt even the Minister himself has seen their Register...'

'-Let's find out then, shall we?' said Harry, his own trembling hands making short work of the wrapping that, apparently, could only be handled by him. Setting aside the small box that was revealed for the moment, Harry unravelled the yellowing parchment that accompanied it and began to read hungrily.

_Dear Harry,_

_If you are reading this, then I am dead and the war is over. I'm sorry I couldn't stick around for the celebrations there, kid, but assuming I died fighting alongside you in battle, I could not think of a more fitting way to go. I hope that in this, your victory, all the losses will have been given purpose and you can go on to live a long and happy life. I know I speak on behalf of your family, as well as myself, when I say you deserve nothing less-_

Harry had to pause in his reading, eyes swimming with tears. Mrs Weasley, who had, out of respect for his privacy, backed away as soon as he had opened the letter, reapproached and hugged Harry fiercely at the first signs of his distress. Ushering him in to a seat in front of the mysterious box Sirius' letter had yet to explain, she patted him on the shoulder one last time and then bustled off to put on the kettle.

Regaining his composure, Harry refocused his eyes and continued to read:

_You are probably wondering, right about now, why I waited until after Voldemort's fall to have his delivered. In short, it is for the same reason I could not simply tell you two years ago, after I escaped from Azkaban: an Unbreakabe Vow. I'm sorry to say, Harry, that there was something even bigger, and certainly more important, than the Prophecy, that has been kept from you all this time – as indeed it has been from even the Order – for only those closest to your family were ever privy to its secrets. I'm technically still breaking the Vow in writing this to you, even if I don't intend for you to get it until I am safely in the ground... but with the war over I don't give a damn if the consequences find me in the afterlife – it is time for you to know._

_You have a sister, Harry._

Harry dropped the paper in shock, his eyes automatically finding Mrs Weasley.  
'Why didn't anyone ever tell me I had a sister?' he blurted.

Mrs Weasley dropped the teacup she had just fetched from its hook and whirled around in surprise.  
'A sister?'  
Mrs Weasley was equal parts confused and sad. Taking a seat beside him, she proceeded delicately. 'Your parents kept a low profile after they graduated. There were rumours for a while... but when no traces of any other child was ever found amongst you and your parents' things it was determined you were an only child after all-'

'Sirius says that I had a sister,' Harry pointed out. 'How can people decide that she never existed at all?'

'Oh Harry...' Mrs Weasley was hesitant. 'I'm sure the Ministry could have investigated it – much like they could have given poor Sirius a trial – but then in this case at least, it would have only added to the tragedy...'

'She deserved to be remembered,' said Harry fiercely, his heart aching for the sister who had seemingly been swept aside. He frowned. 'Why would Sirius have been made to swear an Unbreakable Vow, to keep her a secret all this time... I don't understand-'

Mrs Weasley's eyes sharpened, and she reached out a hand, finding it difficult to keep the tense anticipation out of her tone.  
'Harry, could I perhaps see exactly what Sirius wrote?' she asked, and Harry handed over the page without hesitation. As her eyes were quick to confirm her suspicions, Mrs Weasley spoke as slowly and clearly as she could. 'You _have_ a sister, Harry! Look at the tense...'

Harry's mouth fell open and he took the letter back eagerly, eyes widening with shock as he confirmed for himself that, yes, Sirius was indeed implying that his sister was still alive. Or at least had been, at the time the letter had been written, sometime before his own death. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but it certainly would make the imposition of an Unbreakable Vow make a little more sense. Realising, then, that he would have no reason to keep such things from the woman who viewed him as one of her own, Harry read the rest of the letter aloud – if only to make the words seem all that little bit more real.

_Words alone can not do Rosie justice, so I've enclosed a little something Rosie herself helped me make, to show you instead. It's a Pensieve of sorts, only to view the memories would be a bit like gazing in to a Crystal Ball. You'll come to find that there's nothing your sister can't do in a pinch – I dare say she's even more brilliant than what your mother ever was. Though your sister will likely dispute that I am a tad bias in that regard. Anyone you see within the memories I've selected will be able to answer the many questions you're sure to have – the most resourceful of which will undoubtedly be Rosie herself. The Vow may have prevented her from seeking you out, but it won't stop you from finding her and asking the right questions. On that note, Harry, I'll leave you to find a quiet place to open my parting gift to you, and sign off by telling you how very proud I've always been of you... of both of Lily's children.  
Your godfather, Sirius._

Harry lowered the parchment and looked to Mrs Weasley with wide eyes, unsurprised to find the woman dabbing at her eye with her apron.  
'If you'll please excuse me, Mrs Weasley, I don't believe I will be joining you for dinner,' he said formally; standing and tucking the unassuming box under his arm.

'Of course, dear,' acknowledged Mrs Weasley. 'Take as much time as you need – what room will you be using? I'll make sure no one disturbs you...'

Before the woman could change his mind, Harry crossed the kitchen and retrieved his jacket.  
'Actually, Mrs Weasley, I thought I might do this at Godric's Hollow,' he said resolutely. 'For surely whatever reason for all this secrecy started there – I'll send word if I do not intend to return tonight. Please tell the others what you can.'

Mrs Weasley waved him off with a teary smile and Harry left, hugging his godfather's precious gift close as he Apparated to the only other place he had ever considered a home.

END CHAPTER

A/N: OK So the next chapter won't be anywhere near as fast... but be thankful, I almost ended this chapter after Harry left Severus' burial. But that might have been a tad too cruel (well, short). R&R, you know how it goes...


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